Wasn't Exactly What He'd Expected
by GIRL IN STORY
Summary: It wasn't the feeling that he was going to die. He'd been in dangerous situations before. It was the feeling that he'd just been to his own funeral, and the turn out wasn't exactly what he'd expected. No pairings. Standard disclaimers apply.
1. Chapter 1

He tried to think about the boxing class he'd signed up for his Freshman year at Ohio State University, when he was still reveling in the freedom that came from leaving Long Island, and Rhode Island, the freedom of choice. This was before he learned that sometimes choices lead you to concussions and confusion and coffins with expensive brass hardware.

* * *

"You heading home soon?"

Tony didn't look up as his boss came to stand in front of his desk. Ziva and McGee had gone home hours ago, but Tony and Gibbs had stayed to catch up the paperwork that had piled up since the splints on Tony's fingers made it impossible for him to type. He'd returned to the office that morning, hands healed, but he hadn't had a chance to get any paperwork done. He'd been too busy harassing Ziva and McGee, trying to get things back to normal. He wondered why Gibbs had let him get away with it.

"In a minute. I just have to finish these requisition reports."

* * *

His boxing instructor had told the class that amateur boxers always used gloves, but he'd still taught them about maximizing the force of the punch and minimizing the damage to the hand. Tony was pretty sure that he'd already broken a couple of fingers, but he wanted to keep the trauma to a minimum, because he wanted to be able to shoot when this was over, because he wanted to be able to shoot the person who had done this to him.

* * *

"How are you doing, Dinozzo?"

"I'm fine."

"Right," said Gibbs. "Ask a stupid question..."

"I'm really fine, Boss."

Gibbs shifted from one foot to the other. "Is that why you've been taking the stairs instead of the elevator?"

"I need the exercise." Tony didn't miss a beat.

"Tony," said Gibbs. Just his name.

* * *

He tried to think about the punching bag in the gym at OSU, but all he could think about as the lid of the coffin started to splinter, was the day his father had locked him in the broom cupboard. Tony couldn't remember what he was being punished for, but he remembering sitting in the dark, in the only room in his father's house that was, ironically, dusty. He had curled his fingers, gripping the plush carpet and tried to convince himself that his father had chosen the broom cupboard because he knew that the maid would find him when it was time to polish the silver later that afternoon. Lying with the crown of his head pressed against the wall of the coffin, and his long legs starting to cramp, as he whispered, "He'll find me," even though he knew that the oxygen would last longer if he didn't speak, Tony felt like he was in the broom cupboard again.

* * *

"I'll get over it."

"You were buried alive."

Tony shrugged awkwardly. "What do you want me to say? I'll get over it."

"I won't," said Gibbs.

Tony waited for the punch line, but Gibbs continued to stand silently in front of Tony's desk, watching his agent with wide blue eyes. Tony remembered the way Gibbs had knelt in the dirt next to him, next to his grave, until he'd been able to stand up and talk and pretend that he hadn't just been buried alive.

* * *

He wondered how long Gibbs would wait before replacing him. The protocol for getting buried alive was kind of delicate. The social etiquette books his mother had made him read in preparation for the dinner parties he'd been ignored at anyway hadn't covered psychopaths with shovels and the people who pissed them off. Manners had never been Gibbs' biggest concern anyway. McGee would become the senior field agent, but they would need to hire someone new eventually, and Tony knew he wouldn't be hard to replace. He was standard government issue.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Boss," he said quietly.

"Don't apologize."

"It's a sign of weakness."

"It's not your fault."

Tony ducked his head. "You want to grab a steak, Boss? I figure I can afford to pig out since I'm taking the stairs so much."

"Tell you what. You show up at my place in an hour, and I'll cook you one cowboy style."

"I'll bring the beer."

* * *

It wasn't the feeling that he was going to die. He'd been in dangerous situations before. It was the feeling that he'd just been to his own funeral, and the turn out wasn't exactly what he'd expected.

* * *

Gibbs turned to leave, and later, when Tony followed him, he hesitated in front of the stairwell door before turning around and pressing the elevator call button. The doors opened, and he stepped inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony lowered his gun, "Abby? What are you doing here? Did you break into my apartment?"

"Yes," Abby said unapologetically, but she didn't move from the bedroom doorway, and for a minute Tony wondered if he'd scared her, training his Sig on her like that, but then he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"What's wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep in my coffin tonight," she whispered.

Tacitly, Tony help up the corner of his comforter and let Abby crawl into bed with him. She curled up against his side and buried her head in the crook of his neck. Mouth pressed against his collarbone, she said, in a muffled voice, "Do you remember the Wilkins case?"

"Which case?"

She lifted her head. "Wilkins," she enunciated.

"Yeah."

"You were missing," she said. "Again. So I bought a Surf's Up Ken doll and dressed it in a little suit. I mean, it was already wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and I know you like those because they remind you of Magnum, but you wear suits more often, so I dressed it in a suit. A gray one."

Tony raised an eyebrow incredulously, but he thought the effect was probably lost in the dark.

"Voodoo, Abby? I know we weren't getting along so well back then, but voodoo? Really?"

"Not bad voodoo! I thought that if you could hurt people by sticking pins in a doll, you could heal people too, right?"

"Right," said Tony, doubtfully.

"So I cut up some gauze into little bandages and wrapped them around Surf's Up Ken, suit an all, until it looked like a tiny dapper mummy, except I left a hole for the mouth so you could breathe."

"Thank you."

"After the case ended, I put it in a shoebox, and I forgot about it," Abby's breathing hitched, "I put you in a box, Tony!"

Tony smiled, reassuringly, he thought, but he wasn't sure because Abby started crying again. Tony used the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears away, because even though Abby all the time, when she ran out of Caff-Pow, or when Kenny died on South Park, Tony still thought it looked unnatural.

"Abby, do _you _remember the Wilkins case? I had a broken arm, and I was so concussed I thought Gibbs was my Great Aunt Deirdre. Mind you, she did have a very strong jaw. I hate to break it to you, but while you're Abby Normal, the Queen of the Lab, and our Lady of the Dark, voodoo priestess just isn't in you repertoire."

She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his, carefully, like she was afraid one or the other was going to break.

"Are you sure?" she murmured.

"I'm sure," said Tony. "You know, I always thought I understood women until I met you, Abs."


	3. Chapter 3

Abby was an efficient sleeper for someone who drank so much caffeine. Tony pulled the covers up around her slim shoulders and lay down next to her. He knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep that night. Even if he could fall asleep again, he didn't want to wake up screaming and scare Abby.

He was laying still, trying not to breathe too loudly, when he heard noises coming from his living room. Abby was curled up under the covers next to him, McGee would have made more noise, and Ziva would have made no noise at all, so Tony knew it was probably Gibbs, but he took his gun with him anyway.

His boss was sitting on the couch, the same way Tony had been sitting on his couch earlier that night while they ate cowboy style steaks, and drank beer, and talked about anything other than coffins.

Gibbs handed him one of the leftover beers from the six pack they'd had with dinner, and asked, "You get enough beauty sleep?"

"You tell me."

"Not even close. You still look like shit."

Tony took the bottle, and set it on the coffee table. He knew they were going to have a conversation that Gibbs thought he needed to be drunk for, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Gibbs didn't talk much, but when he did, he expected his people to shut up and listen.


	4. Chapter 4

"You going to be okay?" Gibbs asked abruptly. He glared at Dinozzo, daring him to lie, but not surprised when he did anyway.

"Sure. It's not like this is the first time someone has tried to kill me." Tony leaned in conspiratorially. "I mean, I make a lot of bad jokes."

"Yeah. And that was one of them."

Tony grinned.

Gibbs took in the dark circles under his eyes, like Abby had been pressing kisses to his cheekbones, and leaving smears of black lipstick. He wondered if Dinozzo had gotten any sleep at all. He'd thought that his agent would deal with the hurt in his own time. He knew Tony wouldn't be punching any walls for a while, but he had other ways of coping. They weren't sophisticated or original, but they worked, for a while. Except the bones in Tony's hands had healed, and he still hadn't found release in the gym or a bottle or Gibbs' basement

"You want to talk about it?" Gibbs tried for gentle. He wasn't sure it came across, though, because Tony flinched.

"Why? It's not like we've had a heart to heart every time someone has tried to kill you."

"You make it sound like that happens a lot," said Gibbs.

"Well sure, Boss. You aren't exactly known for your charming personality."

Gibbs could see Tony tense in anticipation of a head slap, but he just said, "Still don't seem to get in as much trouble as you do."

"Oh, that's easy, Boss. You were a Marine. I was a cop. Everyone who wanted you dead is dead. Everyone who wanted me dead is just getting out on parole."

Tony's teeth sparkled in the dim accent lighting, and Gibbs realized that the conversation had gotten away from him again.

He could still feel the dirt on his hands, and he wondered, with no small amount of horror, if that was how Tony felt about Kate's blood. He'd tried washing his hands. He'd even used some of the rose scented soap that Hollis had left and he hadn't gotten around to cleaning out. He could still smell the dirt on his hands, and feel it under what was left of his fingernails.

What was harder to remember was the feeling of Tony's pulse under his fingers, when he'd finally gotten to the end of the dirt. He'd seen the state of Tony's hands, and grabbed his wrist instead, pulling him out of that hole. Now, sitting on to Dinozzo on his living room couch, Gibbs felt like reaching over and grabbing his wrist again, just to feel his heart beat, but he was afraid Tony would flinch again if he touched him.

Tony's grin faltered in the face of Gibbs' stare. He looked down at the coffee table.

"Thank you for coming for me," Tony said.

Gibbs had to look away too. "Hell, I knew I wasn't going lose you that day."

Tony smiled shyly, and Gibbs realized that it was just because he'd said his death would be a loss, and for the first time in a long time, Gibbs felt guilty for being a bastard.

He reached over and took hold of Tony's wrist, wrapping his fingers around the knobby bones. Tony pretended not to notice, picking up his beer with his free hand and taking a sip.

"A gut feeling," Tony summarized. He shook his head. "Wish I could be that sure of myself. Although it's probably a good thing my gut isn't as sensitive as yours, considering the junk I eat."


End file.
